


figure it out

by trishapocalypse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, like a LOT of fingering okay, like i don't know if you're prepared for this sigh, like very light and barely mentioned but y'know tw for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, Harry likes when Nick fingers him, <i>a lot.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	figure it out

**Author's Note:**

> For Sam (hearts in my eyes for you). This is all Sam's fault (idea?) because she's devious. As always, this isn't real, this never happened, it's all false, blah blah, hastily-beta'd (so if you see any mistakes _please_ let me know, and I hope you like it!
> 
> tumblr: @trishanthemum :)

It all started as a joke. Harry was fidgeting, always fidgeting and moving around while he and Nick tried to watch a movie. Nick would chalk it up to being young and, normally he wasn't annoyed because it was Harry and Harry was perfect, but. But this time he _was_ annoyed because they were watching a classic, Mean Girls, and who the hell fidgets during Mean Girls?

Nick waited until Harry leaned forward, taking a sip of his coke and settling back against the couch cushions, and Nick wrapped an arm around his waist. He rested his hand against Harry's arse, fingers digging into the flesh. "Watch the movie, Harold," he told him quietly.

Harry shifted backwards against his hand, causing Nick to hook his thumb around the waistband of his jeans, rubbing across the soft skin. "Alright," he breathed out with a nod, curls falling into his eyes and he reached up to push them away.

"Ya gonna stop fidgeting now?" Nick asked him.

"Ya gonna cuddle me now?" Harry retorted.

Nick smiled, lying back on the couch and pulling Harry half on top of him until he was nestled along the length of Nick's body and the back of the couch. "Better?"

Harry nodded, wrapping an arm around Nick's waist. "You can put your hand back, if you want," he added softly, burying his face against Nick's neck to hide his flushed cheeks.

Nick smiled, sliding his hand down the length of Harry's back to rest against his arse.

Harry wiggled back against him. "No, you can—" he cut himself off.

"Can what?" Nick prompted, leaning away from Harry so he could look him in the eye.

Harry's cheeks were flushed pink, eyes blown wide. "You can—inside my jeans, if you want," he added hastily.

Nick bit the corner of his lip to suppress a smile because he always knew Harry liked to be _touched_ but this was new and he liked it. "Do _you_ want me to?"

Harry nodded shyly, pulling at a loose thread on Nick's shirt.

Nick nodded and slipped his fingers under the waistband of Harry's jeans, under his pants, to grab at the soft flesh of his arse. Harry shifted subconsciously, Nick's fingers brushing against his crack, and he let out a soft moan. They had fucked before, multiple times actually, but it was usually rushed, hurried, never having enough time to really get to know one another's bodies and what they liked. So this, this was new. It was the middle of the day, Sunday, and they had nowhere to be, no radio show or concert to worry about. They had all the time in the world.

Harry pushed back against Nick's hand, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and biting back a whimper as Nick trailed his finger over Harry's crack, brushing against his hole.

"Is this—?"

"Yeah," Harry said breathlessly as Nick ran the pad of his thumb over his hole, teasing. He pushed his hips back, trying to get Nick to touch him _more_ but it wasn't working. "Can you—shit."

"What?"

Harry lifted his hips up, reaching down to unbuckle his jeans, and he pushed his jeans and pants over the curve of his arse. "Just—more," he encouraged.

"Let me up so I can get some lube—"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "M'fine, just—"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Harold," he told him sternly.

Harry groaned, sitting and leaning over Nick, fumbling around on the table by the couch until he found a little bottle of lube in the drawer. Nick was always prepared and Harry knew that, keeping half-empty bottles of lube stashed around his flat. He shoved it into Nick's hands, lying back down on him.

Nick popped open the lube, liberally coating his fingers before pressing them against Harry's crack, teasing. Harry pushed back against him and he ran one finger along him, grazing his opening, and Harry sighed, head falling on Nick's chest.

"Christ, Nick, will you just finger me properly already?" he panted out, fingers digging into the soft material of Nick's shirt.

Nick slid one finger inside of Harry, marveling at how bloody tight he still managed to be even after all the times Nick had his cock buried inside of him. He slid his finger in and out, teasing Harry's hole with his thumb, before slipping in a second finger. Harry's back arched and Nick watched fascinated at the way his fingers disappeared inside of Harry and the way that Harry pushed back against him.

Harry bent his knees along Nick's side, thrusting his hips back and causing the angle to change, Nick's long fingers brushing against his prostate. Harry gasped, fingers clawing against Nick's chest. "More, more," he whispered.

Nick complied, sliding in a third finger and stretching Harry open; Harry winced slightly, groaning, but he kept moving his hips back against Nick's hand, taking him deeper. Nick could feel the length of Harry, hard against his stomach, tip leaking against his shirt, but he didn't touch him because he wanted to see if he could make Harry come just on his fingers. He didn't even care that his own cock was hard, confined by the zipper of his own jeans, because it wasn't about him, it was about Harry. It was about the way Harry was wantonly pressing back against his fingers, causing Nick to brush against his spot with each flick of his wrist, causing Harry to moan against his chest. It was about how beautiful Harry looked when Nick, when any part of Nick, was inside him. It was about how Harry was clutching at his chest, gasping and moaning and begging Nick for _more more more_ until he came with a cry, ruining Nick's shirt and sighing. Nick kept moving his fingers, pressing against Harry's sensitive prostate, feeling Harry's leg twitch, before slowly sliding his fingers out, still resting them on the gentle curve of Harry's arse.

Harry whimpered, nuzzling into the side of Nick's neck and he took a minute to regulate his breathing. He shifted against him, feeling Nick's cock pressed against his hip. "Do you want me to—"

Nick shook his head, running a hand through Harry's curls. "Jut relax. You look thoroughly debauched," he teased.

Harry flushed, ducking his head to hide against the column of Nick's throat. "Can't help it," he muttered.

Nick laughed softly. "I know. I'm flattered, really and truly."

 

+

 

After that, it became a sort of game for Nick. 

He wanted to see how far he could push Harry, how much was too much. He wanted to push Harry’s boundaries and that, that was how he found himself locked in the bathroom at the station, Harry pressed against the door with two of Nick’s fingers buried inside of him. The room was silent apart from Harry’s quiet gasps, the buckle of his belt occasionally hitting the door. Nick dropped to his knees, flicking his wrist and nudging his prostate. 

“Ugh, fuck, Nick,” Harry gasped, trying to spread his legs a little further but his jeans were tangled around his thighs, preventing movement. Harry’s head fell against the door and he rested his weight on his palms. “Nick—“

“Quiet, Harold,” Nick whispered against the small of his back. “Anyone could be walking by.”

Harry whimpered, pressing back against him. “Nick, please—“

Nick smiled, pressing a kiss to the base of his spine, sliding in another finger causing Harry to gasp and start clawing at the door. “Look so good like this, Haz, so—“ He was interrupted by the shrill ringing of his mobile phone and he cursed. He stood up, fingers still buried deep in Harry, and he dug his mobile out of his pocket, seeing that it was Aimee. 

“You can’t possibly be thinking about answering that, Nick,” Harry whispered, his words coming out in a rush.

“Hey, Aimee, what’s going on?” Nick greeted her, flicking his wrist again and brushing against Harry’s prostate with every thrust of his fingers. 

Harry whimpered against the door, bringing a hand up to his mouth and biting down on his knuckles. 

“Yeah? No, I’ll be there. I’m leaving the station in a few,” he told her, pressing his lips against Harry’s neck and nipping at the skin. Harry gasped and Nick twisted his fingers almost painfully and he dug his teeth harder into his hand to bite back his moan. Nick moved his wrist faster as he watched Harry come undone and he forced himself to pay attention to Aimee. He knew he should’ve hung up but Harry was just so _pretty_ pushing back against him, biting his knuckles, and he ran his tongue along the side of Harry’s throat as he came on the door to the bathroom, a pathetically quiet whimper barely escaping his lips. “Yeah, Aimee, I know the place. I’ll see you in a few, yeah?” Nick smiled, nodding to himself. “Bye, Aimee,” he told her, hanging up his mobile and sliding it back into his pocket.

Harry sighed as Nick slid his fingers out of him and he rested his forehead against the door. “You’re evil,” he muttered.

Nick laughed, stepping over to the sink and washing his hands. He dried them, tossing the paper towel away, before he adjusted himself in his pants. He was sporting a semi but it wasn’t entirely obvious and he looked over at Harry, who was still leaning against the door, flush high in his cheeks. “Might wanna clean the door off before you leave,” Nick suggested.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked.

“Gotta meet Aimee for lunch. We’re planning her birthday,” he told him, brushing a quick kiss against his temple before he exited the bathroom, leaving Harry alone to clean the door, clean himself up, and hope it wasn’t entirely obvious that he just got off with Grimmy in the station bathroom.

 

+

 

It was Aimee's birthday party and Harry wished he was drunk. There wasn't exactly anything in his way preventing him from _being_ drunk, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was shoved into a circular booth between Nick and Aimee, Ian and Pixie also joining them, and everyone was drinking and laughing and Harry was sipping on his third vodka and cranberry of the night and Nick _still_ wouldn't touch him. 

Nick wrapped his fingers around Harry's knee, applying pressure and causing him to stop fidgeting. "Stop moving, Harry," he told him, leaning to whisper next to his ear.

Harry looked over at him and pouted. "Are you going to dance with me?"

"You'll take someone's eye out on that dance floor, Harold," Nick told him, his eyes sparkling.

Harry sighed because what was the point of being at a club where he could drink and grind all up on Nick and be able to get away with it because the papers could only sell it as a drunken encounter? Harry knew the price of his fame, of the band, and it was worth it but it also meant being on the lookout all the time and that meant that he couldn't touch Nick in public as much as he wanted. 

"I'll make it up to you later, if you want," Nick promised. 

"I do want," Harry told him, nodding his head.

"Want what?" Aimee asked, tossing back another shot.

"Cake!" Nick announced. "Ian, will you go get it?"

Harry fidgeted more against the material of the booth and tried not to sigh. It was Aimee's night, after all, and he wasn't a big enough brat to ruin it. By the time the cake came and everyone started singing, Nick had wrapped his arm around Harry's waist, fingers resting on his back. Harry gasped as Nick pressed a finger to the cleft of his arse, barely between his cheeks yet right against his hole and Harry apologized profusely for messing up the song, causing Aimee to laugh and ruffle his hair. 

And Harry didn't know how Nick could sit there, all calm and collected while Harry was in such a state of delirious _want._ His heart was racing and Nick was barely touching him; he was already half hard in his jeans and he was pressing back against Nick's fingers. His thumb caught on Harry's rim and Harry lurched forward slightly, grabbing the edge of the table in a white-knuckle death grip.

"Y'alright mate?" Aimee asked.

Harry nodded. "Just feeling a bit off, sorry."

"Need some water?" Nick asked him, a small smile on his face.

"No, thank you," Harry responded. "Think you should probably take me home soon. I've had a bit too much to drink."

Nick grinned. "In a bit," he replied noncommittal. "Should probably mingle for a bit, yeah?"

"Nick—"

Nick slipped his hand out of the back of Harry's jeans and shoved Pixie out of the way, exiting the booth.

Harry bit his bottom lip and waited, because there wasn't really all that much he could _do._ He called for a car, knowing it would take about twenty minutes and he didn't trust cab drivers. By the time he got the message that the car was outside of the club, he had already tracked Nick down on the dance floor. 

"Wanna leave already, pop star?" Nick teased.

"Think it's time you took me home, yeah? Make sure I get there safe?"

Nick grinned. "Should probably call a cab—"

"I got a car waiting outside."

"You're efficient."

"Hardly," Harry muttered. "I don't trust cabbies."

"Plan on getting into some mischief in the cab?"

"If you play your cards right."

Nick smiled, knowing he would, knowing Harry wouldn't say no. And that's how, ten minutes later, he had Harry breathing against the side of his neck as he forced his hand into the back of Harry's obscenely tight jeans and was stretching him with two fingers. Harry's hand was digging into his thigh, panting against his neck, and Nick knew that the driver could tell something was going on, but he was hired to be discreet so Nick wasn't exactly worried. 

He could feel Harry clenching around him, could see him wincing with the stretch and burn and sensation of skin on skin without any sort of live. Harry's cheeks were flushed and Nick was tempted to drag him over his lap, pull his trousers down and just _watch_ his fingers disappear into his pert little arse. But he knew they had company so that would have to wait. 

By the time they got to Nick's flat, driving around to the back, Harry was shaking. Nick managed to get him inside without the paps catching on and he had Harry on his bed, jeans and pants off, in a matter of seconds. He pulled the bottle of lube out of his nightstand, coating his fingers before thrusting two inside of Harry's pliant hole. Harry whimpered, gripping at the sheets, as Nick fucked him with his fingers. Nick watched as Harry's eyes widened when he added a third, could feel him clenching tightly around him, and Harry started pushing his hips down in an effort to get _more._

"Love this, don't you?" Nick asked, eyes trained on Harry's hole as he slowed his movements down. 

Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah—yeah, I do."

Nick smiled as Harry clenched around him. "Just like having any of me inside of you, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," he agreed breathlessly before he groaned. "God—need more, Nick—"

"More or faster?" Nick asked softly.

"Both," Harry gasped out. 

"Touch yourself," he told him, watching Harry's long fingers wrap around himself and, hmm. Maybe one night he could ask Harry to finger himself while he watched, see if he reacted the same way, all wanton and needy. He probably would, Nick decided. 

"Nick—" Harry groaned, eyes watering at the edge because he was so close. 

Nick nodded and pressed a fourth finger against his rim, pressing slightly but not enough to penetrate, and he watched in awe as Harry came over his fist, crying out before collapsing on the mattress. Nick's cock was throbbing against the zip of his jeans and he slid his fingers out of Harry's puckered hole, undoing his pants and fisting himself. 

"Wanna—wanna get you off, too," Harry told him softly. 

"S'alright, Harry," Nick told him, eyes slipping shut as he jerked off quicker. 

"Wanna taste you, Nick. Get up here," he whined. 

Nick nodded, the bossy little prat always had to have his way, and he crawled up the length of Harry's body, knees pressing underneath his armpits as he straddled Harry's face. Harry parted his lips obediently, the color still high in his cheeks and his pupils blown wide, closing them around the swollen head of Nick's cock. Nick bit his bottom lip as Harry tongued the slit slowly, too tired to take him deeper, and Nick's cock pressed against the inside of his cheek. It wasn't enough, not really, and Nick slowly pulled out of Harry's mouth. 

"Make it up to you, promise," Harry told him breathlessly.

"S'alright," Nick assured him because getting sucked off was not as important as just _getting off_ so he wrapped his hand tighter and started fisting himself, knowing he was close.

"Want you to come on my face," Harry told him, wrapping his hands around the back of Nick's thighs. 

Nick nodded, a quiet moan of Harry's name slipping past his lips. He jerked faster, once, twice, then three times and he was coming over Harry's face. Harry's eyes slipped shut and his tongue darted out of his mouth, trying to gather as much of Nick as he could. Nick adjusted himself until he was lying down next to Harry, breathing heavily, and he watched as Harry trailed his long fingers over his cheeks, gathering Nick's come before sliding his fingers between his lips.

"You're a menace," Nick whispered fondly.

Harry smiled, sitting up long enough to pull his shirt over his head and wipe his face off. "You bring it out in me," he admitted softly.

Nick smiled against Harry's neck deciding that he could live with that.

 

+

 

If Nick thought things were going to change when Harry went back on tour, he was wrong. It was only a couple of weeks across Europe, hardly the longest leg of their soon-to-be world tour, and Nick refused to admit that he missed Harry. He settled for texts throughout the day, Harry sending him silly pictures as per usual, and late-night phone calls where he could hear the hitch in Harry’s breath, knowing that he was holed up in the bathroom on the tour bus, fingers slicked up and pressing against his hole, telling Nick how he wished it was him. And, hell, Nick wished it was him, too, wanting to be the one to make Harry lose control and come all over himself, the one who made Harry’s eyes tear up as he was stretched and rambling, whispering dirty things against Nick’s ear, and—fuck. He _missed_ Harry.

 

+

 

“People only sit in the back of movie theaters if they want to kiss a lot, you know that, right?” Harry asked Nick quietly as Nick led him up the steps to one of the back rows of seats in the theater.

“I know, Harold,” Nick told him, picking a seat and sitting down, propping his feet up on the seat in front of him.

“Do you plan on kissing me a lot?” Harry asked cheekily as he sat down next to Nick. He tugged off his headband before pushing it back against his curls.

Nick rolled his eyes. “You wish.” He watched Harry fiddle with his headband and he sighed. “Where did you get that offensive thing?”

Harry gasped. “It’s not offensive! And I got it in Norway,” he added quickly.

Nick reached over and ran his fingers over the fabric. “It’s horrible.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I could kiss you whenever I wanted and you wouldn’t care,” he decided, changing the subject because he actually really loved his headband. He wanted to push up the arm rest and lean against Nick’s side but he knew he couldn’t, not in public, because he had to be _careful_ and that, that’s why he and Nick normally hung out at the flat. He settled for reaching for Nick’s popcorn and stealing drinks of his soda through most of the movie. 

Nick reached behind Harry, tracing the dimples at the base of his spine, smiling when Harry started shifting against him. He leaned down, pressing his lips against his ear. “If your arse didn’t look so good in these jeans, I’d curse you for wearing them,” he whispered, tugging at the seam of his jeans just enough to slip his hand beneath them.

Harry squirmed, scooting back a little further. “Nick—“

“Watch the movie, love.”

Harry turned to face him, frowning. “If you think I can focus on the movie while your fingers are in my arse, you’re daft,” he whispered.

Nick grinned, the pad of his fingers pressing against Harry’s hole and he took another sip of his soda. He paid attention to the movie as best he could, watching Harry twitch out of the corner of his eye, pressing back against his hand. After a minute, he finally pushed one finger inside of him and, though Harry had Nick’s fingers up his arse probably five times a week (or more), he was still tight and hot, letting out a little sigh. Nick didn’t move then, rather just letting it press inside of him and Harry’s head fell back against the seat, turning to face him, his eyes wide.

“Nick?” Harry whispered.

“What?” Nick answered, still watching the movie.

“Add another,” Harry told him, pressing back against his hand.

Nick shook his head. “Watch the movie.”

“Nick—“

Nick turned away and looked over at Harry before leaning down next to his ear. “If you’re a good boy and stay quiet, Harold, I’ll eat you out in the car in the parking lot before I take you back to my flat, yeah?”

Harry swallowed and nodded swiftly, his curls bouncing. “Yeah, I—Yeah, fuck.”

“Good boy,” Nick told him, turning back to the movie and finally moving his finger before adding another.

Harry’s hands gripped the armrests, knuckles white, and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. Nick was a tease, a dirty tease, and Harry pushed his hips back, barely biting back a groan as Nick’s fingers teased at his prostate. There was _no way_ he was going to last the movie with the amount of pressure Nick was using but, fuck, he was going to _try._

By the time the movie was over, Nick was pulling his fingers out of Harry as if nothing had happened and was leading him towards the lobby. Harry could’ve screamed when a few fans walked up, asking for pictures and autographs, but he complied, smiling and chatting until he politely informed them that he had to leave. 

Nick grabbed Harry’s elbow, leading him towards the Range Rover and pushing him into the back seat, looking around to make sure no one was watching and he climbed in after him. “Can’t wait to see those pictures of you online in the morning,” Nick told him, “your cheeks flushed and pupils blown. Can’t wait to see what the girls of the Internet think you were doing in that theater.” 

Harry smiled, fumbling the buckle of his belt and the zip on his jeans pushing them down his hips. “Think they’ll wonder if you were blowing me in the theater?”

“Please, Harold, we all know you’d be the one on your knees,” Nick told him. “Turn over.”

Harry nodded and rolled over, pressing his chest against the leather of the seat as Nick grabbed his hips and dragged him onto his knees. Nick ran his fingertips up the back of Harry’s thighs before landing on the back of his arse, his thumbs pulling his cheeks apart and he leaned in to swipe his tongue across Harry’s opening. Harry keened, pushing his hips back against Nick, and he dug his nails into the leather of the seat. “Nick—“

Nick wet his fingers quickly with his tongue before sliding them into Harry; he watched as Harry’s back arched and his hole stretched around the intrusion. He sat back and just watched for a minute, watched the way Harry barely pushed back against his fingers as they slid in and out, the sound of skin-on-skin loud in the quiet car. Nick could faintly hear other people walking to their car, doors slamming and people laughing, and he leaned down to press his mouth against Harry’s hole. 

“Christ, Nick,” Harry panted as Nick’s tongue and fingers worked in tandem inside of him. The rough pads of Nick’s fingers pressed against his prostate and Harry pushed back harder against him. “Nick—gonna—“ he moaned loudly.

“Gotta keep quiet, Harold,” he told him, reaching up and tugging Harry’s headband over his face, over his lips, and he hesitated. “This alright?” he asked because he and Harry had done _a lot_ but this, this was different and he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, fuck, do it.”

Nick shoved the fabric between Harry’s lips, causing him to moan and jerk his hips backwards. “This alright?” he asked again and Harry nodded, reaching behind his own head to tug the fabric a little tighter. His pupils were blown wide and Nick smiled, leaning down to press his lips against Harry’s ear. “When we get back to my flat, I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk,” he promised, twisting his fingers deep inside of Harry and causing him to cry out around the fabric. “You want that?”

Harry nodded quickly, pushing himself further back against Nick, squeezing his eyes shut as he came with a cry of Nick’s name. He rode out his orgasm on Nick’s fingers before collapsing on the seat, panting heavily.

Nick slid his fingers out of Harry’s arse and pulled his jeans over his hips. He ran his hands slowly through Harry’s curls. “Y’alright?”

Harry nodded again, sucking in a deep breath.

Nick shook his head, reaching up to remove the headband from Harry’s mouth and he bit back a laugh. “Was that too much?”

Harry shook his head. “Just need a few minutes to recover,” he answered honestly, his voice a little hoarse. 

Nick nodded and climbed up into the driver’s seat, digging his keys out of his pocket and starting the vehicle. He felt Harry wrap his arms around his shoulder, pressing his lips against his neck. “Yeah?”

“Drive fast, yeah?”

Nick smiled.

 

+

 

Harry’s fingers grasped at Nick’s sheets, his body shaking with each thrust of Nick inside of him. Nick had Harry’s legs wrapped around his waist, his hips were resting against Nick’s thighs as he angled his thrusts to hit Harry’s prostate. Harry threw his head back against the pillow, loud moans escaping his lips as Nick’s fingertips bruised his hipbones. 

Nick slid his hands from Harry’s hips to his thighs, spreading them apart so he could watch himself disappearing into Harry’s hole. “Wish you could see yourself right now, love,” Nick told him, breathing heavily, “all open for me and just begging for it, fuck.”

Harry gasped, wrapping his hands around Nick’s forearms. “More, more,” he begged, nails digging into Nick’s skin. Nick thrust his hips, fucking him deeper, and Harry shook his head. “No, want—want more,” he gasped out, stomach twitching as Nick hit his prostate with each thrust. 

Nick slowed his thrusts, sliding one hand down the back of Harry’s thigh until his fingertips brushed across his opening, stretched out from his cock. He rocked his hips slowly, pressing his finger against Harry’s opening, causing the boy to nod fiercely, muttering _yeah, yeah_ under his breath. Nick slowly pushed in one finger alongside his cock, biting his lip at the pressure and he was almost positive that it was too much, that it just wouldn’t _fit_ , but Harry was pushing his hips back against Nick and he worked his finger in up to the second knuckle. 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, tears welling up behind his eyelids, and he struggled to keep his breathing even. His heart was pounding in his chest and it was a lot, it was too much, but it was perfect and everything. 

“Too much?” Nick asked, barely moving his hips because Harry was so tight around him and he could feel himself on the edge.

Harry shook his head, a few tears slipping down the side of his face. “Keep moving,” he told him, hands slipping from Nick’s arms to fall back on the bed. Nick nodded and started to move, thrusting his cock and finger in tandem inside of him. Harry pulsed around him, insides clenching, and Nick’s name fell from his lips like a prayer as he came over his chest without being touched. 

Nick angled his hips and kept thrusting, hitting Harry’s sensitive prostate before he came himself, spilling deep inside of him. He stilled as Harry arched his back and he slipped his cock out, adding another finger and pressing against Harry’s prostate. 

Harry reached up to wipe at his eyes, his body instantly reacting and he wanted to push Nick away and pull him closer, it was just _too much._ His body was still sensitive, so sensitive, but it was so _good._ “Nick—“

“Want me to stop?” Nick asked, sliding a third finger into Harry’s stretched hole, feeling his own released and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. 

Harry shook his head, his thighs falling from Nick’s waist to the bed, falling open and going slack. “Nick, I can’t—not again, s’too much,” he told him breathlessly.

“I think you can,” Nick told him. “Give me your hand.” Nick reached for Harry’s hand, grabbing his wrist and moving him so he could slide a finger into himself next to Nick’s, their fingers pressing against one another. 

“Nick, Nick,” Harry gasped and winced as he felt himself start to harden again with the constant pressure against his prostate. 

Nick leaned down, pressing his lips against the base of Harry’s cock, sliding his tongue over his hip. “You’re so beautiful, Harry,” he whispered against his skin, nosing down until his mouth was ghosting over Harry’s balls. “All open and wet, Christ, you’re perfect.”

Harry whimpered, his back arching as he allowed Nick to move their fingers in time with one another. His hips pushed down on their own and he choked back a sob as he felt Nick’s breath ghost over his opening, his tongue darting out to barely taste him. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands faltering until they found Nick’s hair and he tugged at the strands as Nick licked around his hole and between their fingers. “Nick, I—“

Nick thrust his fingers in deeper, pressing against his prostate. Harry tugged harder on Nick’s hair as he pressed down against his face. His body was on fire and still tingling from his previous orgasm yet he could feel another welling up in the pit of his stomach. Nick twisted his fingers and Harry came unexpectedly with a broken sob, his back pathetically arching before he collapsed back against the bed, breathing heavily, tears in the corner of his eyes. Nick pulled out slowly, Harry’s wrist falling limp to his side, and he kneeled over him, pressing his lips to Harry’s cheek. “You alright?”

Harry nodded slowly, eyes fluttering open to meet Nick’s. “Shit.”

Nick smiled, laughing softly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back,” he told him, climbing off the bed and walking into his bathroom. He washed his hands before grabbing a flannel, wetting it and returning to Harry who was still sprawled out on the bed, boneless and flushed. He straddled Harry’s legs, lightly wiping down his stomach, around his oversensitive cock, and barely dipping inside of him and down the back of his thighs.

Harry flinched, reaching over and pulling the pillow over his face. “Nick—“

“Sorry, love,” Nick whispered, tossing the flannel onto the floor and reaching up to tug the pillow away from Harry’s face. He wiped the skin under Harry’s eyes, pushing his curls back from his face. “Y’alright?” he asked again, skimming his fingers down the side of Harry’s neck and pausing over his still racing pulse. 

Harry smiled, wrapping an arm around Nick’s waist and tugging him down so he could curl against his side, nuzzling against his neck. “M’perfect,” he told him.

Nick smiled, running a hand against Harry’s spine as the younger boy practically purred against his neck. “Yeah, you are.”


End file.
